Johnny and Dallas were our buddies, too
by gloryblastit
Summary: Darry has a moment of fear and doubt.
1. Default Chapter

Things were unraveling. Darry didn't mind the jobs, it was a lot of work but he could do it.  
  
He didn't really mind not having a girlfriend. He'd like one, sure. But he just didn't have enough time.  
  
He knew what everyone thought. Grown up too fast, too old at 20, too tired, worked too hard. Yeah, well, he had to. There was no one else to do it. One thing his dad had taught him was if it has to be done, do it.  
  
Problem was he wasn't. Look at Pony. The kid was a mess, a real space cadet since that whole thing. Soda, too, what with Sandy leaving.  
  
What could he do? How could he help these things? It wasn't his fault mom and dad died, he'd done the best he could with the fall out. It wasn't his fault Johnny and Dally died on the same night and Pony went crazy for awhile.  
  
Was it? The thought that haunted him and robbed him of sleep was that it was his fault. Soda told him, more than once, to lay off Pony.  
  
"He's a kid, Dar," Soda would say, "he's smart, he'll go to college, you gotta lay off,"  
  
But no one knew better than he did. Hell, he was running this family. Neither of those two could tell him shit.  
  
So he hadn't backed off. And that stupid kid went and fell asleep in the lot, worrying them sick. Asleep! When he'd thought, well...It made him shake with anger, even now he saw red.  
  
So he'd yelled despite his relief to see Ponyboy come home shame faced and sleepy. He'd yelled because that boy had to learn that there were rules and consequences, at home and in life and it was now his place to teach them, to pick up where mom and dad left off, spare the rod and all that.  
  
But if he hadn't done that, if he hadn't sent Pony out into the night all pissed off he wouldn't have run to the park with Johnny. And Johnny wouldn't have killed that soc. And they wouldn't have been in the church when it was on fire.  
  
It was like dominoes. One action sets it all in motion. If he hadn't shoved Pony Johnny would be alive and Dally would be alive.  
  
You don't just stop living because you lose someone. He believed this. You don't quit because death is a part of life, and no one lives forever. You've got to somehow enjoy now, and let go of the rest.  
  
But Ponyboy wasn't doing well. He insisted he killed the soc half the time and that Johnny was still alive the other half of the time.  
  
Darry didn't know what to do. He didn't want to mention anything like reality to Ponyboy, afraid he couldn't handle it and his mind would shatter to little bits, useless glass shards on the floor.  
  
If it hasn't happened already.  
  
He didn't like the look in Ponyboy's eyes, a sort of delusional glow, like a fever without the heat.  
  
And the kid kept banging into things, forgetting things. And not normal things, like school books or appointments but his shoes! He left his shoes at school and walked home in socks.  
  
Then Soda. Soda understood Johnny and Dally were dead, seemed appropriately sad about it. But Soda was in a deep depression over Sandy getting pregnant and being shipped off to some spinster aunt in Florida. He was hardly eating, hardly going out, hardly smiling.  
  
He loved Sandy. Darry knew that, everyone knew that. But Sandy was gone, she'd slept with some other guy and she was gone. Unless it was Soda's? Darry shook his head, felt the sharp pin prick behind his eye of the beginning of a headache. He rubbed his temples.  
  
Ponyboy was insane, thinking Johnny was alive, thinking he killed the soc when five people saw Johnny do it. It was some weird transference of sins, atoning for what Johnny did by taking it on himself.  
  
Truth was Ponyboy scared Darry now. His break with reality was proving more than he could handle.  
His parents died, that had happened to all of them. But he, Darry, was 20 when it happened. Old enough to put it into perspective, to deal with it. Ponyboy had only been 13. What could a 13 year old handle? And not that long after he was almost killed, drowned, by the soc. He was there when Johnny killed him, maybe he didn't see it but he was there in that silent night with Johnny clutching a bloody knife and a dead body at their feet. Then not a week later he was in the hospital room when Johnny died and he was at the lot when the cops shot Dally.  
No wonder he went crazy.  
The doc said he'd get over it if they gave him time. But would he? What if the doc was wrong? Did he fully understand what had happened? Maybe Ponyboy would stay like this forever, locked in a twilight world where Johnny hadn't died and he'd killed the soc and nothing ever made sense.  
What if he couldn't pull Ponyboy back from this ledge?  
Things were unraveling and Darry had no idea how to stop it. 


	2. ch2

It was a matter of perspective, maybe. Darry tried to puzzle it out as he gazed at Ponyboy sleeping, which he still did an awful lot.  
It wasn't Dally so much, though that surely affected them. But Dallas had lived reckless and violently for a long time. While upsetting, his death was not exactly a surprise.  
No, rather, it was Johnny's death that had set them all reeling.  
Darry felt the emptyness they all felt over it. Some things seemed constant in his life, or had before. Like his parents, just a constant presence until they were killed and then the emptyness of where they had been. It was staggering. Johnny was the same. A constant presence. Of course they were always torn up about how his family treated him but Johnny himself was like the calm center of the craziness of the east side. And he hadn't realized how much they depended on that until he died.  
  
Darry shook his head, unsure every day since Ponyboy had returned of how to proceed.  
He often felt like shaking sense into him, "They're dead, they're dead!" But as Soda has said in so many words, Pony wasn't like him.  
So what could he do? Hope the doctor was right and time would take care of it.  
A knock at the door. Two bit and Steve never knocked. Ponyboy had been getting visitors, middle class kids from school, in awe of the whole mess Ponyboy had got himself into.  
Darry figured it was another of these.  
"Hi, uh, is Ponyboy here?" Darry was surprised to see Randy on his doorstep. Randy had been Bob's friend, had tried to drown Pony that night, had probably helped beat up Johnny that time in the lot.  
He was dressed casually enough but Darry could see even his casual clothes had cost a pretty penny. A far cry from the jeans and tee shirts he was always wearing.  
"Yeah, come in," He did, head down, perhaps aware of his part in things.  
"Ponyboy." Darry said.  
"Yeah?" Pony didn't look up, accustomed now to the constant arrival of the doctor and friends from school..  
"There's a guy here to see you. Says he knows you." Ponyboy looked up.  
"His name's Randy."  
"Yeah, I know him," Pony said.  
"You want to see him?" Darry had no idea how Pony would respond. Maybe anger that Randy had helped hurt Johnny. Maybe indifference, as he wasn't too clear, unaware that Randy had any part in things at all.  
"Yeah." Pony shrugged, "Sure, why not?"  
Darry let him go in and stood outside, not able to hear their words through the closed door, just the low tones of their voices. He felt watchful and he wasn't exactly sure why.  
He didn't blame Randy for the events that lead to this. No, that blame went to Bob, who if he wasn't already dead Darry would gladly kill him himself. But Randy was a different story, just swept along in things much as Ponyboy was. It was no more Randy's fault Johnny and Dally were dead that it was Ponyboy's fault Bob was, too.  
Still, something kept him near, watchful.  
Darry heard the low murmur of Randy's voice and Ponyboy's response, just loud enough through the door so he could make out the words.  
"I had it," Ponyboy said, "I had the knife. I killed Bob." Oh, here we go. Darry ran a hand through his hair.  
The low murmur of Randy's reply.  
"I killed him." Ponyboy's voice had a frightening shrillness, "I had a switchblade and I was scared they were going to beat me up."  
Darry edged closer and Randy spoke louder, so he could hear him, too.  
"No, kid, it was your friend, the one who died in the hospital..."  
Darry felt a curious mixture of alarm and a strange sense of relief, that at last someone said it.  
"Johnny is not dead." Pony's voice shook with his denial, "Johnny is not dead."  
"Hey, Randy." Darry couldn't stand it, fearing he had pushed Pony too far, "I think you'd better go now."  
Darry ushered him out and spoke to him in a low voice, hoping Pony wouldn't overhear.  
"Don't ever say anything to him about Johnny," Randy looked guilty, sorry, and overwhelmed all at once. He nodded somberly.  
When he had left Darry went back to Ponyboy's room but did not go in. He looked at his brother, sitting up in bed, smoking despite being told not to. He had the weird gleam in his eye of believing his lie. Darry sighed and it became a shudder. Johnny and Dally dead, court hanging over their heads. How would they ever find him to be a fit guardian? While in his care Ponyboy was almost killed, helped kill a soc, for God's sake, ran away, hid from the police. Once he started thinking about it the list didn't seem to stop. What had he done right?  
He watched Ponyboy, he must know somewhere in his mind that they're dead because he looks so sad. Darry was sure he was going to lose him. He was losing everybody.  
"Ponyboy Curtis, put out that cigarette!" He said this, trying for some normalcy.  
"O.K., O.K.," Pony answered, sounding normal, for all the world. 


End file.
